Kushiel's Heirs
by Alyse Arden
Summary: Amelie de Mereliot dreams of traveling to the City of Elua in pursuit of a scholarly position and perhaps a few dalliances . But once at court, she finds that there is much she doesn't know. With Shahrizai heirs stirring dark desires and a mistrustful Aragonian princess watching her every move, Amelie is forced to learn a deadly dance of intrigue, romance, and sexual politics.


Note: All places and most characters belong to Jacqueline Carey.

Chapter One: A Changing Wind

I lived the first seventeen years of my life in the great city of Marsilikos.

Most sophisticated, well-traveled people might not consider Marsilikos amongst the greatest cities in the world. Indeed, it is not as grand as Tiberium nor perhaps quite as beautiful as the City of Elua. It is not so ancient as Byrn Gorrydum of Alba, or Iskandria in Menekhet. But it was my home, and as such, the most wonderful place in the world.

And, at seventeen years of age, I was thoroughly sick of it.

It was not that I was unaware of the majesty of my city. I was. I loved Marsilikos as one can only love one's home. I loved every part of it, from the legendary Dome of the Lady, where I was fortunate enough to grow up, to the shambling docks, which reeked of rotting fish. I loved the Temples of Eisheth and the gardens dedicated in her name. I was proud of my province's reputation for healing and my people's unparalleled prowess for storytelling. The Royal Fleet, once commanded by the dear Quintilus Rousse, has a special place in my affections. Yes, the home of my heart was Marsilikos. But as I neared my majority, home had become a shackle.

My Uncle Gerard has long jested that the real daughter of Jeanne de Mereliot and Lucio Stregazza was stolen from her crib as a baby by some evil Tsingani and replaced with a fair-skinned _didikani_.

"What itchy feet you have, Amelie," he would tease, tugging on my braids. "Mayhap I shall give you a caravan for your natality, and see you off to seek your _kumpanya_."

Once, when Uncle Quintilius was present for this, he scowled at my mother's brother. "For all your study of the Tsingani, it's ruddy obvious you have yet to meet one. Elua's balls, boy, no one believes they steal children anymore! You'd best not let the Master of the Straits overhear you say such a thing," he warned, waving his wine glass. His voice was overloud, as his hearing had begun to fail years ago.

"That said," Quintilius boomed, squinting at me, "this lass does have the look of one fit to walk the _Lungo Drom_."

I was pleased. At thirteen, I knew very little of the Tsingani myself, but from the stories Uncle Quintilius told, I thought I would like very much to travel with a _kumpanya_. For years afterward, I dreamed that my blood uncle was right, and that one day my mother would confess to a dalliance with a Tsingani mendicant and I would strike off on my own in search of my father.

I should mention now that I very much adore my true father. If I seem eager to discard him, it is only that I was young and foolish. I believe now, looking back with the perspective of age and wisdom, that I was simply seeking a reason for my feelings of isolation. Like many young people, I felt singular and out of place amongst my family.

And really, it is not so surprising that I should feel that way. As a second daughter, I would not inherit my mother's title or estate. My sister, Anastasie, had that privilege. And although my father was heir to some small holdings in La Serenissima, as a woman I could not inherit there. These estates would pass to my brother, Ricciardo. It was not my father who sought to deny me these things, but Caerdiccian law. And so, approaching my majority as a daughter of two great houses, I stood to gain nothing of my parents' legacies.

I know that my mother would have been pleased to see me take in interest in healing, and follow in her path to become a chirurgeon. My father would have been content to wed me to some noble son of Caerdicci so that I could bear twenty sons and add to the Stregazza empire. But somehow, neither of these paths appealed to me. I truly did have a fever for travel, and my feet itched to be off somewhere far away.

Never in my life had I yearned to be away as I did in those weeks before my seventeenth nameday. I was restless and bad-tempered, and although I thought I hid my despair well, everyone knew of it.

I discovered this when I was awoken abruptly one day by my Caerdiccian maid, Ilda. She fairly ripped open the curtains so that the sunlight shone directly into my eyes.

"You disgrace your family, Lady Amelie," scolded Ilda. "All you have done these past weeks is sulk! Enough of this."

She grasped my silk duvet in her large, knobbly hands and yanked it off the bed. I yelped in protest, and then again when she marched back to the window and threw it open. The cool sea air rushed into the room, chilling me.

"You're mad, Ilda!" I shouted crossly, jumping out of bed. The wind had swept through the papers on my desk, scattering them all over the floor. I rushed to the casement and pulled the window shut, hard. I kept my hand on the latch as I turned to glare at my maid. To my surprise, however, she had disappeared.

I threw up my hands. Well, if her intention had been to get me out of bed, she had certainly succeeded. It would take me all afternoon to put my papers back in order. I considered returning to bed anyway, out of spite, but truthfully I was hungry. Gazing out the window at the sky, I guessed it to be nearing midday. No wonder Ilda was so furious.

Indeed, it had become my habit of late to sleep well into the day. All the time now I felt lethargic and curiously heavy, as though a vast weight sat on my shoulders. I knew that I was suffering from melancholy; I have studied medicine as well as any noble-born child of Eisheth. I knew that there were tinctures I could take that would ease the heaviness and restore some of my energy; I could brew several of them myself, in fact. However, I felt a curious aversion to the idea. This depression was making me miserable, yes, but at least it was something out of the ordinary. At that point in my life, I was so starved for change that I would take the despondency over the monotony. So, instead of going to the apothecary for herbs, I dressed slowly and made my way to the dining hall with the vague intention of waiting around for luncheon.

I should mention that that particular day is clearer in my memory than many of the days I spent in Marsilikos. It was the day that the wind began to change, so to speak.

I saw the first signs of this on my way to the dining hall, when I encountered Uncle Quintilius being led out of his rooms by a pair of strong young men. This was not unusual in itself; Quintilius Rousse had taken up residency with us ten years previously, when his health finally began to fail. The former admiral was one of the oldest living men in Terre d'Ange at that time, having some ninety-seven years to his name. I knew that he had been a great friend to my grandmother, Roxanne, who was Lady of Marsilikos before my mother. They had always had a close relationship; some even speculated that Admiral Rousse might have been my mother's father, or even my uncle's. The gossip continued up until the Duchesse Roxanne lay on her deathbed, when she revealed to my mother that both of her children were sired by a young healer who had died shortly after my Uncle Gerard was conceived. My mother let this become public knowledge, for she was proud of having healing in her blood. Indeed, Lady Jeanne de Mereliot was known as quite the gifted healer before she took up my grandmother's duties as Lady of Marsilikos. What my mother did not reveal to the public was that she had known, even as a young girl, that Admiral Rousse and the Lady Roxanne were close friends and lovers in their later years.

So that was why, upon retiring from his post as admiral of the royal fleet, Quintilius Rousse took up residency at the Dome of the Lady and became the informal companion of my grandmother. Grandmere had passed away some six years ago, but Rousse, incredibly, was still able to move about most days, albeit with help from serving men. His eyesight was dreadful and his hearing poor, but Uncle Quintilius was still in possession of a shrewd mind. Granted, he often forgot small things these days, but the old admiral never forgot a single detail of the stories of his heydays.

On this particular day, I was surprised to see Uncle Quintilius up and about. My Aunt Marise, who was the Master Healer of the Dome, had informed the household only a fortnight ago that Rousse probably would not live out the month. And in fact, the old man had been bedridden for the previous four days. So it was a very pleasant surprise indeed to see my favorite uncle out of his chambers.

"Uncle! Well met!" I shouted.

Rousse turned around slowly, aided by one of his young helpers. "Jeanne?" he shouted, squinting at me.

"It's Amelie, Jeanne's daughter!" I yelled back, grinning at him.

"I knew that, of course I did," bellowed Rousse. "Well met, Anastasie!"

I suppressed a smile and took my near-uncle's arm. "Let me help you, nuncle! Where are you taking him?" I added in a normal voice, addressing one of the servants.

"My lord has a visitor," the man said neutrally. Looking closer, I could see that he was carefully keeping his exasperation in check. "He refused to receive him in his chambers, so we're escorting the duc to the second-floor drawing room."

"I'll help," I said, nodding to the other man. "You may go."

It was a slow journey, but eventually the servant and I, whose name turned out to be Theirn, managed to deliver the old admiral to his destination. Awaiting us there was a tall, broad-shouldered young man. I had time to notice that his skin and hair were both dark before my uncle's caller took my place without a word and helped him to his chair.

I wavered on the brink of annoyance before deciding that this young man no doubt thought he was being chivalrous. After all, this stranger had no way of knowing that I had some training as a healer and was accustomed to helping lift heavy patients. I decided not to take offense, and took the opportunity, as the man attempted to greet the near-deaf Rousse, to look the man over.

I guessed him to be a few years older than myself, perhaps having twenty-one or twenty-two years. He was not d'Angeline, that much was apparent. Peering closer, I saw from the markings on his face that he was Cruithne. This did not surprise me. As a port city, we saw many Cruithne in Marsilikos. It did not even surprise me that Uncle Quintilius had a Cruithne visitor. In my younger years, before Rousse began to fail, he had several foreign visitors, including Picts.

I was surprised, however, to hear the Picti man address Quintilius Rousse as "grandfather".

"Eamonn's boy!" Rousse boomed. "Ah, but it's been a pig's age since I've seen you! Kevin, isn't it?" he frowned.

The man smiled. "It's Kilian, actually," he said, sounding apologetic. "Kevin is my older brother."

Rousse nodded, and I could tell he hadn't actually heard the man. "How's my son? And that Skaldi mum of yours, how's she?"

"They're well, grandfather," the man called Kilian told him.

I stepped forward. "His hearing has greatly diminished these past few years," I explained to the Pict. "He won't admit it, though, so sometimes he just pretends to hear you," I said loudly, giving the old man a stern look.

Rousse roared with laughter. "Ah, the lass is right! Kevin, this is Anastasie de Mereliot, the next Lady of Marsilikos, so mind you act smart now!"

I smiled wanly at Kilian, who bowed. "It's Amelie, actually," I told him. "Anastasie is my older sister. It is she who is our mother's heir."

Kilian grinned companionably. "I see. Well, I suppose I shan't feel so desolate that my grandfather has forgotten my name, if he can forget the name of one so lovely as you."

I blushed and forced myself to smile. I've never been very good at hearing such things. Somehow, I always feel as though people are secretly laughing at me when they compliment my "beauty". As a half-Serenissian living in Terre d'Ange, I was extraordinarily conscious of the differences between my mother's people and my father's. Still, at least I knew that this half Cruithne wasn't mocking my mixed blood. I could see that he did indeed have the hints of a Skaldic mother, as his eyes were a pale, luminous blue. Most Picti that I had met were dark-eyed.

"You're too kind, Lord Kilian," I told him. "Are you truly Uncle Quintilius' grandson?" I asked curiously.

Kilian nodded. "My father is Eamonn mac Grainne. He-".

"Oh!" I interrupted in my excitement. "You must be the grandson of Grainne mac Conor of the Dalraidia!"

Kilian didn't seem to mind my interruption. He grinned again. "Ah, you've heard of her, then?"

I laughed delightedly. "Yes, of course. Grainne and her brother Eamonn mac Conor fought at the Battle of Troyes-le-Mont. There's a fantastic bit about them and the _anguisette_ in the Ysandrine cycle. I daresay everyone has heard of Grainne mac Conor."

I looked at Rousse with new respect. "I always thought bedding Lady Grainne was a story he'd made up," I admitted to Kilian, shamefaced. I turned to my uncle and repeated this to him more loudly, along with an apology.

Rousse grinned at us. "Aye, and I knew it. Plenty of folk think I'm daft to claim it, too. If that son of mine didn't live so damnably far away, I'd have the proof of it!"

"My parents reside in Alba," Kilian explained. "I myself have been visiting kin in Skaldia for the past two years. This is only my third visit to Terre d'Ange."

I searched my memory. As a noblewoman, I had of course been taught the lineage of all the greater houses of Terre d'Ange, as well as those of several other nations. I remembered that Prince Eamonn of Alba had indeed married a Skaldic woman, and that they had at least one son.

"I welcome you," I said aloud. "If I might ask, what brings you to Marsilikos this time?"

Kilian looked at his grandfather. "I don't know yet, actually," he admitted.

I remembered then that Kilian had come to speak with the admiral, not to the second daughter of the Lady of Marsilikos. I flushed and curtsied. "Well, Lord Kilian, I shall leave you to your grandfather. Luncheon is served at noon in the dining hall; I should be pleased to have you join us, if you are so inclined."

Kilian gave me another genuine smile, and bowed. "Certainly, my lady. I would be honored."

I withdrew, and made my way to the kitchens to inform the cooks that we would have a guest at table, and that the admiral might dine with us as well. I sent a runner to inform my mother and sister of the same, and then retired to the dining room to wait.

A quarter of an hour later, I had received a reply from my mother that, regretfully, she would not be able to attend luncheon. She instructed me to extend hospitality to Lord Kilian, as well as an offer to dine with us again in the evening. I relayed her words to the Cruithne when he appeared a few minutes later, looking rather bewildered and lost. He explained that his grandfather had nodded off in the drawing room and attendants had been called. He told me this in such a disjointed manner that I was taken aback.

"Is somewhat the matter, my lord?" I asked politely.

"Please, call me Kilian," he muttered distractedly.

I gazed at him for a moment. He still looked rather distraught. "Is somewhat the matter, Kilian?" I asked, pointedly this time.

His eyes stopped darting about the room, although he did not cease fidgeting with the tablecloth. "I apologize, my lady," he said, smiling weakly.

"Amelie," I interrupted.

"Amelie," he nodded. "It's just that..."

He stopped, looked down for a moment, and then raised his eyes once more to mine. "May I confide in you, Amelie?"

I managed to conceal my surprise. At seventeen, I had never been the confidante of a peer before. I felt rather grown up in that moment. "Of course, Kilian," I said graciously.

"Well, I- did you know my grandfather is a duc?"

I nodded. "Indeed. Queen Ysandre raised Admiral Rousse's house to lordship of L'Agnace province, after Ghislain Trevalion took his wife's name and disbanded House Somerville."

Kilian stared at me. "That's... very impressive, Lady Amelie." He sighed. "I'm afraid I know almost nothing of my d'Angeline roots, or the customs of this place," he said, waving his hand toward the window. "And I suppose it wouldn't really matter, except that Grandfather has just informed me that he intends to name me heir to his estate. Apparently I'm to be Duc of L'Agnace."

"Oh, how wonderful!" I exclaimed. "We had wondered what Uncle Quintilius intended to do with his estate," I added in response to Kilian's questioning look.

Before he could respond, my sister Anastasie appeared. Kilian stood and bowed.

"Please, sit," Ana said, smiling. "Lord Kilian mac Eamonn, I presume?"

"Yes, my lady. And you are Lady Anastasie de Mereliot, yes?"

Ana nodded. "Quite right. Well met, Lord Kilian."

"And to you."

Ana stopped by my chair to give me the kiss of greeting. "Well met, sister. Will our brother be joining us?"

I shook my head. "Ricciardo is learning stitches today," I told her, grinning. "I expect he won't be back for supper, either."

Ana grinned back, well acquainted with the difficulty involved in suturing, and motioned to the servants to begin serving the meal. She turned to our guest. "Are you very familiar with Marsilikos, Lord Kilian?"

"Regretfully, no," Kilian admitted. "This is only my third time in your country, in fact."

"Ah, I see. Well, if you would like, I would love to tell you the history of our great city," Ana offered.

"Please do," Kilian said gratefully. I guessed that, upon learning he was expected to become a peer of the realm any day now, Kilian was eager to learn more about Terre d'Ange.

And so we passed a pleasant luncheon, Ana and I taking it in turns to explain various aspects of our country's history to Kilian mac Eamonn. In turn, he answered our own questions about Alba and Skaldia. After we had finished our meal and retired to the first floor drawing room, Ana extended my mother's invitation of hospitality to the Cruithne, who accepted gratefully. Shortly thereafter, Ana excused herself.

"My sister is expected to attend to my mother while she works," I explained to Kilian. "When Ana becomes the Lady of Marsilikos, she will need to know how to rule the city and Eisheth province."

Kilian frowned. "Am I right in assuming, then, that your mother is also the Duchesse of Eisheth?"

I nodded. "Yes, that's correct. The Lady of Marsilikos and the Duchesse of Eisheth are almost always one and the same. The title descends maternally," I explained.

"It is that way with most titles in Alba," Kilian said. "But it is unusual here in Terre d'Ange, is it not?"

I nodded again. "Most titles traditionally pass from father to son, although it is not terribly unusual for a man to name his daughter heir. In Marsilikos, however, there is no Lord of the city. If the current Lady has no daughters, her son may inherit the duchy of Eisheth. But he is required by law to either marry, or appoint a female ward as Lady of Marsilikos, to rule. The city must never be without a Lady."

Kilian looked thoughtful. I averted my eyes politely and gazed out the window, allowing him to collect his thoughts. I wondered how stunned I would be, if I had just found out I was to inherit an entire province in a foreign country.

After some few moments of silence, Kilian said abruptly, "Grandfather told me I must needs present myself at court. He gave me a letter of introduction to the Queen – the Queen!- and told me to go to the City of Elua." He shook his head in amazement. "I don't even know where to begin with such a task."

I waited a moment for my envy to pass. Although I had no interest in ruling, I would have gladly accepted a peerage if it meant a visit to the Palace and the freedom to travel.

"Lord Kilian, if I may offer some advice?" I said gently. He nodded his assent. "Speak to my mother," I said simply. "She will know exactly what you should do."

I will not bore you by relaying every detail of what followed. Suffice it to say that my mother was indeed a great help to Lord Kilian. She counseled him to do as his grandfather requested, and go to the City of Elua. Mother suggested that Lord Kilian seek tutors to help him learn our ways, and to remand L'Agnace unto the care of the Queen until he was prepared to take on his responsibilities. This was wise counsel, and Kilian was grateful. He took rooms near the admiral's and spent long hours by his side, talking to and attending the old man. When he wasn't with his grandfather, Kilian sought me out. We played cvasse and quoits and even attended a few plays in the city. I taught him some of the idioms and peculiar turns of phrase he had not learned in his official studies of d'Angeline, and he did the same for me with Cruithne. He also began to teach me simple phrases in Skaldic, and I taught him a little Caerdicci. Ilda sat in on every meeting with Lord Kilian, occasionally assisting with the Caerdicci lessons. I tried to take the opportunity to teach my old nursemaid some d'Angeline, but as usual she stubbornly refused to learn.

So we whiled away the time pleasantly, keeping vigil for Uncle Quintilius. He was growing weaker every day now; I suspected that now that his estate was taken care of, the old man was ready to pass on. This saddened me, but at the same time I was grateful that I would not have to see my favorite uncle lose his wits or expire in the pain of some terrible illness. Truly, Eisheth blessed the admiral with a soft, dignified death. He slipped away in the night, peacefully.

Kilian and I stood side by side in the Temple of Elua as the priests blessed his grandfather's body. The temple was crowded with mourners; Admiral Rousse had lived an exceptionally long life, and had many friends. From a distance, I caught my first sight of two living heroes of the realm, the Comtesse Phedre no Delaunay de Montreve and her consort, Joscelin Verreuil. The renowned courtesan, beautiful even in her advancing age, wept openly while her Casseline looked on solemnly. Seated nearby was the Queen Mother, Ysandre de la Courcel. The tall, proud former Queen of Terre d'Ange stooped not at all, but sat upright beside her grandson, Prince Anafiel. Ysandre and her grandson had come to represent the royal family, who had long counted the admiral a dear friend of the crown. Queen Sidonie and her Prince-consort Imriel sent their regrets, along with the Dauphin, Lysander, and his brothers and sisters who remained in the city.

I was told by my brother Ricciardo, gossip that he was, that young Prince Anafiel was escorting his grandmother to Marsilikos, where she would board a ship to Alba. Her husband, the late Cruarch of Alba, had been deceased some seven years now, and Sidonie had the realm well in hand. Thus, the Queen Mother had decided to retire to the home of her daughter Alais. Ricciardo whispered to me that Ysandre de la Courcel was finally removing herself from the courtly games of intrigue and was said to desire a peaceful dotage in Alba.

I was also fortunate enough to see, for the first and only time in my life, the renowned Master of the Straits. Although I knew him to be of an age with the comtesse, time had touched Master Hyacinthe much more severely. He leaned heavily on a staff, and his wife Sibeal was ever at his side. Still, when several of Rousse's men carried the admiral's body out to the pyre, I saw Hyacinthe raise a hand to the sky. And I swear to you, although the rest of us were thoroughly soaked, not a drop of rain touched Quintilius Rousse. The pyre burned easily. This was my first experience with the strange powers I would later become familiar with in the City of Elua.

That night, Kilian and I were two of the last remaining mourners in the Great Hall. Several grizzled old sailors dozed at their places in a drunken stupor, and Ricciardo had fled the hall not an hour previously, looking positively green. Kilian and I deep into our cups as well. We laughed and cried and talked for hours. Kilian confessed how out of his depth he felt, to be joining the noble peerage in a strange land. I confided in him how unhappy I was in Marsilikos, how bitter I felt to have no fate set out before me.

"My dear Lady Amelie," Kilian said solemnly, the affect only slightly ruined by his unfocused eyes. " It pains me to hear that you are so unhappy. If there is anything I can do-" he stopped, looking stricken. I thought for a long, tense moment that he would vomit. Instead, he belched loudly.

We stared at each other for a moment, and then burst out laughing.

The next day, Kilian said, "I was thinking on what you said last night, Amelie."

I blinked and looked up from the cyvasse board, where I had been contemplating my next move. "What I said?" I repeated, dumbfounded. "If you're talking about the time Uncle Quintilius dressed up as Freya on the Longest Night, I assure you that was completely true-"

"No, no," Kilian said, laughing. "That, I fully believe. No, I meant what you said about being unhappy." He looked at me levelly. "If you really meant it, Amelie, I think you should do something about it."

I shook my head. "I've told you already, Mother refuses to let me attend the University or visit my kin in La Serenissima. I've never even been across the Straits," I said, scowling.

"But you haven't been to the City of Elua, either, have you?" he responded, raising his eyebrows. "You have told me so much about how wonderful this city is, yet you have never seen it. Wouldn't you like to?"

I paused. It had never occurred to me to wonder if Mother might let me go to the city. In truth, I was so preoccupied with faraway places that I had never considered the possibility of a much shorter journey.

"I suppose," I said slowly, "I suppose I've always thought that if I were going to set off on my own, I might as well aim for somewhere far and exotic. But the city... Do you really think they would let me go?" I asked doubtfully.

Kilian grinned. "I don't know, my lady, but it can't hurt to find out."

Kilian and I decided to wait until until my nameday to broach the subject of my traveling to the capital. I thought to request it as a natality boon. My father was absent, tending to matters in La Serenissima as he so often was. So it was my mother I would have to convince. I practiced my argument with Kilian for several hours each night for half a fortnight; then, on the night of my seventeenth natality, I stated my case to the Lady of Marsilikos.

To my surprise, Mother did not object immediately. Indeed, she seemed impressed by the idea, and also by what she perhaps perceived to be an eagerness to finally engage in court politics. But she did have misgivings.

Her largest concern lay in finding me lodgings. Although most of the de Mereliot estate is in Eisheth, my mother did maintain a small household in the City of Elua. However, she refused to send me to the city alone.

"But I won't be alone! Ilda will be with me, and Kilian will escort us!" I protested. It had already been established that Ilda would remain a fixture in my life at least until I was eighteen. I liked the woman well enough when she wasn't dragging me out of bed; but, eager as I was to prove myself a woman grown, I chafed at having my girlhood nursemaid forever at my side.

"Ilda's eyesight is almost as bad as Quintilius Rousse's before he died," my mother snapped. "And she knows nothing of d'Angeline court life. Neither does Duc Kilian. He'll be busy with his own matters, and a stranger to the city himself. No, I won't have it."

So it was decided that I would not be allowed to take up residence in our city home. I sulked for hours, furious at having this opportunity snatched from my grasp so soon after it seemed within reach. I decided spitefully that on the day I turned eighteen, I would set sail for Ch'in, the farthest place I could think of.

I was saved from having to seek out a tutor to teach me the language the very next day, when my mother called me to her study to present an alternate plan.

I deposited myself heavily on one of the plush velvet chairs facing her desk and crossed my arms, glaring at the floor. I felt her gaze on me, and after some moments of silence, I softened. I peeked up at her, bracing myself for a lecture. I had been sullen and unpleasant all throughout breakfast, even worse than I had been before Kilian's arrival. But to my surprise, my mother did not look angry.

Seeing that she had my attention, she finally spoke. "You do not know this, but the Prince Consort is somewhat of a friend of mine," she said without preamble. I stared.

"I do not see him often, of course, as I am infrequent at court. But we have exchanged letters for some years now, and Prince Imriel has reminded me many times that he promised me a favor when we were young. I know how unhappy you've been, my dear," my mother gazed at me sadly, and I dropped my eyes to my lap to keep them from tearing up. "I know it's hard for you, watching your brother and sister take on new responsibilities and prepare for their roles. You must seem very... aimless in comparison."

"Yes," I whispered.

"I am willing to make you an offer, Amelie," my mother, Lady of Marsilikos, said. I looked up in surprise.

"Your father and I have never been ones to simply hand things to our children," she continued. "We prefer that you work for them, and prove your worth. We have discussed this possibility in the past, and we both think you would acquit yourself well, if we were to find you a royal appointment. Something academic, perhaps," she added thoughtfully.

I looked at her in surprise. I knew that my mother and father both had hopes for me that I was unable to live up to, but I had never considered that they might allow me to pursue an occupation of my own. I had always assumed they would disapprove of anything other than medicine or marriage.

"Truly?" I asked, stunned.

She smiled. "Truly," she assured me. "I thought perhaps I could ask his highness if there was any work in the archives for a clever girl with a fair hand. And then, if you performed well, we could discuss apprencticing you, or perhaps even sending you to the university in Tiberium."

I was estatic. "Oh, Mother, thank you!" I cried, leaning forward in my chair.

She held up a hand. "There is a condition," she reminded me. I composed myself and sat back in my chair, fighting to keep the grin off my face. I couldn't imagine what she would ask of me that I would not be prepared to give.

"If we send you to court, you must promise us you will at least allow yourself to be courted. I know you're not interested in marriage, but you're young. You may change your mind, Amelie," she said firmly, seeing my mouth open in protest. "You have a duty to your family to at least entertain the notion."

I knew that she was right. And besides, I had no objection to being courted. I was eager to experience life, and a youthful dalliance or two would be exciting. I had no intention of marrying, but I could at least play the game. I could give my mother that much.

"I agree," I said happily.

My mother went on to state that she was charging Lord Kilian with the task of checking in on me at least once every fortnight, that I must obey Ilda, and other such things. I nodded along with all of this, barely listening. I was going to the City of Elua!

Kilian and I waited impatiently for a fortnight before my mother called me again to her study, this time with several letters in hand.

"Prince Imriel has sent the names of several scholars at court for you to study with," she said, smiling. "He has also graciously offered you a suite of rooms in the palace. He suggests you establish yourself, and then take the time to learn what opportunities are available at court and in the city."

I hugged myself with glee. In truth, I wanted to leap into the air and shout with joy, but that would have been unbecoming behavior in a noble lady. So I contented myself with smiling so fiercely that I thought the bones of my face might splinter into a million pieces.

"Oh, thank you, mother," I said, letting my gratitude show.

She nodded. "I have also retained the services of a former adept of Dahlia House," she announced.

I stared at her, bewildered. Mother laughed at the look on my face. "Helene no Dahlia is an instructor now at a lady's finishing school in the city," she explained. "She will be teaching you how to behave at court, and all manner of things related to the courting game."

"Oh," I replied, my mind racing.

I wondered if my mother planned for Helene no Dahlia to teach me anything else.

And so it came to pass, at the end of another month's time, that I found myself with Kilian and Ilda on a coach headed swiftly for the City of Elua. Awaiting me there were a suite of rooms in the palace itself, an audience with the King and Queen of Terre d'Ange, and a retired courtesan to teach me how to conduct myself at court... and possibly in the bedchamber as well. My eighteenth year was already promising to be much more interesting than the previous seventeen.


End file.
